Chocolate Cake
by Tea-Cub
Summary: The long awaited sequel to Cheesecake. John is back for revenge, and he needs a little help, and something sweet, in order to get it. UPDATED: PART 3 UP: FANFICTION COMPLETE.
1. Part 1: Warming Up

Title: Chocolate Cake

Chapter: 1 of 3

Summary: The long-awaited sequel to 'Cheesecake.' John is back for revenge, and he needs a bit of help - and something sweet - in order to get it.

Author: Brosle-Cub

Disclaimer: Thunderbirds was created by Gerry Anderson, is the property of Carlton, and is most certainly not owned by me. I am only borrowing the characters - they are not mine.

Acknowledgements: This three-part story is being beta-read by Mad-Friend, and she did a fab job on this first chapter! Thanks so much, pal!

_The story is dedicated to Tikatu. It was she who beta-read 'Cheesecake,' and it is also she who is writing the thoroughly enjoyable The White Winds fan fiction, which is living-proof that you can develop characters and add new ones without wrecking the actual fandom._

Everyone, I am so sorry for the delay in this sequel! I'd imagine a lot of people are scratching their heads and wondering what the heck 'Cheesecake' is. I know fully well that 95 of its reviews (all positive, so thanks!) cried out the words, 'John's revenge!' as I implied at the end of the story that there would be. But I suffered from writer's-block, and at the time was more interested in the film than the actual series.

However, one random day a few weeks ago I got my writing-bug back for this sequel, and that in turn led me to watching the series again, which I realise now I was crazy to drift away from. The live movie was good, but the series is F.A.B and will always be the real Thunderbirds.

I hope this story doesn't seem too long compared with 'Cheesecake', which was actually only three pages long. But this is John we're talking about, so I imagine he'd be slowly developing his plot for revenge. Anyway, enjoy.

Chocolate Cake

_In the spring of 2027, Gordon Tracy, better known as Troublemaker in Chief, cornered an individual with the hope of stealing a slice of blueberry cheesecake from his grasp. The victim? His older, blonde brother, John Tracy, Space Extraordinaire. John refused to hand the cheesecake slice over, resulting in the break-down of Gordon's sanity. This led to the ultimate price: John was accused of covering the recreation-room wall with pieces of blueberry cheesecake when Gordon attempted to wrestle it forcibly from him. Gordon escaped scot-free without blame, whilst brave John was sentenced to washing the cheesecake off the wall, as well as a week's worth of breakfast, lunch and dinner plates. A jubilant Gordon thought that it had all breezed over as no mention of the incident had been made for over a month._

_Boy, was he wrong…_

Part 1: Warming Up

"_It's the eye of the tiger_

_It's the thrill of the fight_

_Risin' up to the challenge of our rivals!"_

Gordon glanced up blinking, pressing the pause button on his iPod as Scott skidded into the kitchen, looking around with exaggerated panic written all over his face.

"Do I hear trouble? Terror? Unspeakably horrid things?" He rounded on Gordon, his arms taking on a karate position. The redhead shrugged, and went back to his magazine, turning the volume up on his iPod slightly as he pressed play.

"Just me singing."

Scott took a sharp intake of breath. "Then I'll take that as a yes." Gordon looked up at him, frowning slightly. "Sorry?"

Scott waved one hand around. "Never mind. Oh, you'd better get yourself prepared by the way - remember we're picking up John soon."

"What?" Gordon looked up yet again, now slightly irritated as he struggled to hear what his brother was saying over the music. Scott sighed and just tapped his watch.

"Just be ready at thirteen hundred hours." He then turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. Gordon watched him go, before he was struck by a sudden thought and shouted after him, "Oh, by the way, we're going to get John at thirteen hundred hours this afternoon, right?"

* * *

"Scott?"

The dark-haired Tracy glanced around. "Yeah, Virg?"

"Why are you banging your head against the wall?"

Scott rubbed his head gingerly. "I've just been speaking to Gordon."

"Oh, I see." Virgil nodded understandingly. Scott merely shrugged.

"I was just going to call John, tell him to get ready."

Virgil frowned slightly. "But Dad called Thunderbird 5 first thing this morning. He knows when you're going with Alan and Gordon to relieve him."

"Just want to check everything's prepared." Scott excused himself before Virgil could ask any more questions and made his way towards the lounge. Checking that nobody was within earshot, he cautiously opened the lounge door and stepped inside. Walking down into the main room, he scanned it and breathed a sigh of relief. Crossing the threshold to his father's empty desk, he pressed the button that linked him to Thunderbird 5 as he sat down in the chair.

"Tracy Island calling Thunderbird 5 – come in, John."

The portrait immediately switched to a live picture of the blonde Tracy brother, who was looking faultlessly attentive, dressed in his uniform and holding a microphone in his hand.

"Go ahead, Scott."

With a quick glance at the door Scott lowered his voice and muttered, "It's OK, I'm alone. I'm calling you with regards to the plan."

"Ah, yes." John's tense frame seemed to relax somewhat as his eyes darted from side to side unnecessarily. "Right. Well, tell me what's happening."

Chancing another quick glance at the door, Scott nodded. "I think everything's in order, and I'm ready to act whenever you give the word…"

* * *

"John!" Grinning from ear-to-ear Virgil put his easel down as John, Scott and Gordon emerged from the floor, comfortably seated upon the infamous green sofa. His blonde brother smiled over at him.

"Hi, Virg. What are you painting today?"

Wiping his paintbrush with an old rag, Virgil replied mischievously, "I was thinking of creating maybe some kind of terrible monster – something from the deepest depths of the dankest death-pit in the darkest corner of the universe, something we'd never even dream of facing."

"Why don't you just say you're drawing Gordon?" John quipped.

Virgil and Scott burst out laughing, both at John's remark and at the indignant look on the redhead's face. Even Jeff allowed himself a small chuckle as he stood up to greet his middle son.

"Welcome home, John. It's good to see you, son."

John took his father's offered hand. "It's great to be back, Dad. I'm looking forward to a bit of rest and relaxation.

Gordon stretched himself and stifled a slight yawn. "So long as you're not making any plans to watch Muppet Treasure Island, only I want to see it this afternoon."

John rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "OK, but if I hear you singing 'Love Led Us Here' – " He shuddered at the mental image – "at dinner tonight, then I won't be responsible for my actions, understand?"

Gordon gave a sarcastic smile in his direction. "Thankyou for your words of confidence. Home two minutes and he gives me nothing but grief!" Holding his hands to his heart, he wiped away an imaginary tear. "I can't take it, I tell you! I can't take it! What did I ever do to you?"

"Well, I can name quite a few things," John said meaningfully as Scott and Virgil exchanged glances. Gordon let his hands fall to his sides, looking fed-up.

"Look, how was I to know how heavy that black-boot polish was? Anyway, you got it off, didn't you?"

"After a week of scrubbing, yes. And there are such things as labels, Gordon."

Jeff shook his head at his second-youngest son. "That's Gordon for you, fellas, he'll grow out of it, don't think he won't."

"HA! Oh, er, ahem!" Scott put a hand over his mouth and quickly turned his snort of laughter into an exaggerated bout of coughing. "S'cuse me."

Meanwhile, John glanced at his father, a grim smile on his features. "Oh, yes. Indeed. Very much so."

Virgil busied himself with his portrait, painting a red background. "I'm not even going to comment."

"Good idea," Scott muttered in an undertone, then as Gordon turned to look at him, he quickly began coughing again, "Oh, ahem, ahem (cough cough cough) ahem, 'scuse me!"

Jeff shook his head, resuming his seat. "If anyone sees Brains, tell him I need that report on the Mole as soon as possible. Never know when we might get a call. Oh, and Gordon, since the boys have brought it up, try and control those pranks, okay? Nothing wrong with a bit of good behaviour."

"I'll try, dad." Gordon replied, looking slightly depressed at the prospect. "I don't have any good ideas for a prank at the moment anyway."

Scott's false coughing broke out anew as the pilot's shoulders started shaking.

"Although I think I'm just getting one as we speak," Gordon glared at Scott.

"Scott, go to the sickroom if you've got a bad throat." Jeff glanced at his eldest son before turning his eyes back down to his paperwork. "Gordon, could you ask Grandma to get me some more coffee, please?"

Gordon nodded and left the room. Scott took his hands away from his mouth and attempted a straight face.

"I'm sure he'll behave, Dad. He might behave for an hour, or two. Perhaps a day. Maybe even a week."

Jeff chuckled. "Seems like wishful thinking to me. Still, we'll just wait and see."

"Or maybe even a month or perhaps two." Scott continued, covering his mouth to try and stifle the threatening chuckles.

Jeff looked up, startled, as Virgil's paintbrush slipped and John dropped his bag. "A month or two? Scott?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Amused at his family's reaction, Scott stared straight at his father, no longer able to hide the big grin on his face.

"Scott, for goodness sake, go to the sickroom and have a lie-down."

* * *

Gordon yawned as the credits to Muppet Treasure Island appeared on the screen and switched his television off. He stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes, readying himself for a nice mid-afternoon nap. Just as he was on the edge of dropping off there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Gordon called out, drowsily.

The door slid back and Gordon popped open a sleepy eye. Virgil was framed in the doorway. Gordon smiled lazily, by way of greeting.

"Hello."

"Hi. I'm looking for my music magazine, have you seen it?" Looking around the room, Virgil added, "Where's your catapult?"

Gordon sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Alan thought it would be a good idea to give it to his pygmy alligator as a snack."

"What made him do that?"

"Well, I was chasing Tin-Tin with it as a joke - chasing her with the catapult, that is, not the alligator - and Alan managed to get it off me and stupidly threw it into the pygmy's pen. It was alligator-food faster than you can say, 'You crazy nitwit!' He wasn't thinking - well, that's what he said. Anyway, what do you want it for?"

"To take advantage of the situation - you, lying here, without any of your gizmos. I might have had a tomato splattered over your face by now."

Just then, both brothers were distracted as John appeared in the doorway, dressed in damp swimming-trunks with a towel wrapped around his shoulders and a smile in greeting.

"Hey, fellas."

"Sure, John, feel free to splatter water around my room at your leisure," Gordon scowled, sitting up. "Been dipping, then?"

"Oh, yes, I like the cheese-dip best."

Virgil hid his face in his hands. "Not that old joke again." Glancing at Gordon, he added, "He's almost as bad as you."

Gordon sighed. "Is this 'Let's-Make-Fun-Out-of-Gordie' Day? Is it because Alan's not here?"

John started to reply, then hesitated. "Hang on - you've got me there…" Then he shook his head. "Oh, never mind. Hey, do you know if we're doing any shopping-trips soon? Only I'd like to go to the mainland and see a bit of civilisation."

Virgil nodded understandingly. After a month in outer-space, to get back to a tropical island to relax was good, but it was also sensible to go to the mainland in order to get back among the hustle and bustle of the real world. It meant privacy from the family, as well as a healthy and relaxing escape from all the stresses of International Rescue.

"You'd better ask Dad and Tin-Tin about a mainland trip, John," Gordon piped up. "Although I guess they'll say yes. I actually feel like a bit of retail therapy myself." Then his features brightened. "Hey, maybe I could come with you!"

John raised his eyebrows at him. "After what happened last time in that music store, when you were listening to that CD on the store headphones?"

"I was only singing. And jiggling around a bit."

The blonde astronaut nodded at him. "Exactly! How d'you think I felt when that shop attendant came up and asked us none-too-politely to leave? Plus, you might have been recognised!"

Gordon gave a guilty flinch. "Okay, well, I admit, I didn't think of that. If Dad does let me come along, I won't do anything stupid this time."

"An impossible task to achieve." Virgil murmured, making for the door before Gordon could work out what he had said. "Fancy going out on the boat, John?"

"Hm?" John glanced at him. "Oh - no thanks, Virg, I'm sorting something out with Scott. Something important." _Well, important to me, anyway, _he added silently to himself.

"Oh, okay. Well, don't overwork yourself, John, you've only just got back from outer-space."

"Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks." John nodded quickly in his direction. "I'd better go. See you later, guys." With that he was gone.

"Work on his first day back?" Gordon muttered. "That's just like doing your homework at the start of the summer holidays!"

"Yeah, well, maybe he's in a working mood. Perhaps there's something wrong with Thunderbird Three," Virgil frowned slightly. "If that's the case I hope it's not serious. Perhaps I ought to go and see if I can help."

"You want me to tag along?"

"Nah, you're okay - too many of us might make things complicated. See you later." Virgil left Gordon's room quickly, and glanced down the corridor in time to see Scott walking quickly into John's quarters. The artist frowned slightly.

"Odd. Why don't they do their work in the lab or the study?" He looked at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating his options, before deciding his next move. He strolled down the corridor at a leisurely pace, slowing down when he reached John's door. Moving his ear over to the door, he listened carefully. The door was virtually soundproof, but by listening intently, Virgil was able to pick up the thread of conversation.

"Do we have everything we need?" he heard John say.

"Sure do," Scott replied. "I'm glad Grandma's making a sponge for you tonight. It gives us the perfect opportunity to - _strike."_

His frown deepening, Virgil moved closer to the door. Then, with classic timing, his cell-phone began vibrating aloud with Beethoven's melodies - Virgil's chosen ring-tone. He quickly checked the screen to see who was trying to contact him and cursed quietly when he saw it was his father. Not wanting to be seen outside John's room listening in, he immediately started for the nearest escape - Gordon's open bedroom door. Diving inside, ignoring the indignant shouts from his younger brother who was still lying on the bed, he quickly pushed the 'Close' button on the inside panel and let out a deep breath as the door slid shut. With an apologetic glance in Gordon's direction Virgil then answered his phone.

"Hello?"

"Virgil? Sorry to bother you, son, but are you in or anywhere near the lounge?"

"Uh, I can go there if you like, Dad," Virgil replied, a question in his voice.

"Oh, sorry, son. It's just I'm by the pool at the moment, and Grandma's settled herself down here, and we're both relaxed, and she's just realised she's left her reading glasses on the balcony table. Be a good boy and fetch them, will you, before they get damaged? Tin-Tin and Kyrano are working in the gardens at the moment, so they can't do it. And tell your brothers to turn their phones back on!"

Virgil nodded vaguely. "Sure, Dad. Be right there." He then terminated the call and with a "turn your phone back on" to Gordon, he jabbed the button. The door slid open. The pilot of Thunderbird Two peeked cautiously into the corridor. There was no sign of either Scott or John so Virgil made quickly for the corridor exit, only realising as he pushed at the lounge door that his redheaded brother was hot on his heels.

"Uh - Virgil?" Gordon found himself ushered impatiently through the door and it was only when it was closed behind them and they were in the main area of the Villa that Virgil explained.

"Scott and John are up to something." Watching his brother's eyes widen with interest, Virgil pointed towards the lounge entrance. "Come with me, I'll explain as we go along…"

_Will Virgil and Gordon figure out what Scott and John are up to? Find out, in the next chapter! _


	2. Part 2: Taking Action

A/N: As you can probably see, I've decided to change the name of the fic to Chocolate Cake - I guess Sponge was only really a working title. I'm sorry if this causes any inconvenience.

Thankyou to the positive reviews that are flowing and giving me confidence. And thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, Mad-Friend, who is taking the time out to read and beta this fic, telling me where I've gone wrong and helping me turn this into a better story.

Part 2: Taking Action

John gave a little giggle that caused Scott to veer backwards in alarm at his brother's strange behaviour. The two were sitting on John's bed, Scott with a checklist in hand and John, having gone over the procedure with him, acting strangely un-Johnish all of a sudden.

"This is your first ever stab at revenge, isn't it?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"Well… yeah. But hey, just let me enjoy it, eh?"

Scott chuckled and put the checklist down. "Can't argue with that. By the way, did you hear some music earlier?"

John shrugged absent-mindedly as he rubbed his hands together. "Probably Virgil playing the piano or Gordon dancing along with the Beach Boys. Right, let's put this plan into action!"

* * *

Gordon listened with interest as Virgil told him the conversation he had overheard between Scott and John. They were standing by the swimming-pool board, out of earshot of everyone else, and when Virgil had finished telling his tale, Gordon looked at the water thoughtfully - a bad sign, Virgil thought. He watched as his younger brother's head shot up; he looked indignant and furious. 

"Maybe they're planning a prank - without me!"

Virgil chuckled. "John planning a prank? That's something I'd love to see!"

"How could he?" fumed Gordon. "After all, that's my forte round here! I always pull the good ones off!"

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "You haven't always pulled them off correctly though, Gordon."

Gordon glared at him. "Yeah? Give me one example of when I've gone wrong!"

The pilot needed no second bidding. "Well, how about when you were eight years old, and Grandma took us all out shopping to that bathroom store? You saw a bath for sale that was propped up against the wall, and you pressed your upper body into it and pretended to be a mummy."

The redhead thought for a moment, then chuckled. "I'd been watching too many episodes of Scooby-Do. But what's your point?"

"Well, you jumped out of the bath roaring at the top of your lungs in order to scare Grandma when she passed. But it wasn't Grandma, it was another poor lady."

Gordon's grin faded. "Well… mistakes will be made," he muttered.

Virgil rested his head in his hands. "Gords, that 'mistake' left Grandma babbling five-hundred desperate apologies!"

"I remember that!" The redhead couldn't help feeling slightly insulted, "Didn't she plead mild mental illness on my behalf?"

"Yes, and it took two cups of coffee in the store café before that lady could be persuaded not to press charges! I thought Grandma was going to kill you!"

Gordon frowned. "Well, it amused you lot."

"It amused Scott and Alan and the merriment of the prank might've lasted longer if you'd remembered to take that toad out of the bathroom before we left the house. I'd never heard so much screaming in all my life - and that was only John!"

Gordon held up his hands. "Okay, okay, okay, so I wasn't the world's expert prankster back then. But now I like to think of myself as one of the country's best."

Virgil pointed an index finger at him. "Now that, I can agree with."

Gordon took a sweeping bow. "Thankyou, Virg. Right, what are we going to do about John and Scott?"

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "What are _we _going to _do _about them? You don't know for certain what they're doing!"

"But I can find out," Gordon said wickedly. "Virgil…"

"No."

"Aw, come on…"

"Gordon, how can I put this politely?… There is no way in heck that I am going to help you find out what John and Scott are up to. I thought you promised Dad you'd behave!"

"I never promised, I said I'd try." Gordon's grin expanded - his face was in danger of splitting. "And I don't have a great deal of willpower."

* * *

Scott strolled into the kitchen and made a beeline for the fruit-bowl. Plucking a pear, he turned around to smile at his grandmother, who was giving him a suspicious look over her mixing-bowl. 

"Let me guess - you want a lick of the bowl, Scott Tracy?"

"Grandma, I am thirty-one years old," Scott explained in patient tones. "I am the eldest Tracy sibling. I am a pilot. I help my astronaut brother keep Thunderbird 3 on course. I do my chores, I try and keep a cool head on rescues, I find out what needs to be done. Do I really need to lick the bowl?" He paused for a moment; then he grinned. "Well, yes, I do!"

Grandma shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. It was amazing how much her eldest grandson reminded her of Jeff - he had inherited the same charm, the same adventurous streaks, the same sense of responsibility and the same good looks. In fact, looking at Jeff and Scott combined, she was reminded so much of her late beloved husband, Grant. Chuckling to herself, she took two eggs out of the egg carton and cracked the yolk into a separate, smaller bowl.

"Well, who am I to refuse a brave little soldier?" she told Scott, who blushed at the childhood nickname that his mother and grandmother had given him.

"Gee, thanks, Grandma."

"You're welcome - but just you make sure you don't bother me while I'm doing this." Grandma added the eggs to the flour and sugar in the large bowl and started to mix it up. Then she walked over to the stove and brought forth a bowl that had been sitting in a saucepan. As she came closer, Scott saw that there was melted chocolate in the bowl.

"Grandma? I'm afraid I'll have to try that stuff, check it's not poisonous," he said, trying to sound official."

"You keep your hands off it, young man, and maybe then you'll still have fingers. Now make yourself useful and grease those tins."

Twenty minutes later, Scott was glancing both longingly and impatiently at the two large chocolate sponge layers cooking away in the oven. He glanced at his watch and let out a breath. It was six o'clock. Soon Kyrano would be in to cook the spaghetti that he had promised John for tonight, and there was still the small matter of the cake-layers being joined together and covered with butter cream. That chocolate butter cream that was so fluffy, sweet, melt-in-your mouth irresistible and gave you a free five-minute pass into heaven…

_Oh, concentrate, Scott, concentrate, _he thought fiercely to himself. They didn't have long to do this.

* * *

Virgil peeked round the kitchen-entrance at Scott, who was sat next to the oven, staring inside with the look of a man starving for a crust. He quickly pulled the two chocolate bars out of his pocket and strolled in, giving his brother a smile. 

"Hi, Scott. Fancy a Ripple?"

Scott blinked as his music-making brother offered him the Galaxy chocolate. "Where did you get this?"

"Sorry, can't say," said Virgil lightly. _If I tell him where I hide them… no, it's just not worth it, a boy needs sweetness in his life to match the sweetness of his music. _

"Well, if you don't want the bar…" he said meaningfully.

Scott peeled the wrapper with lightening speed and crammed half the contents in his mouth. "Doh, doh, it'd be shelpish og me." On seeing his brother raise his eyebrows at him as he slowly unwrapped his own bar, the elder took a moment to chew and swallow before speaking his mind.

"I mean," he tried, "all chocolate is made to be eaten, and who am I to deny it its purpose in life?"

Virgil put his tongue in his cheek before nibbling on his own bar. "So, er, how's it going?" he asked casually.

"Hm? Oh, fine, fine." Scott sucked at the piece of Ripple in his mouth as he continued to stare at the oven. "The cakes are coming along nicely, so everything's pretty good."

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes. He had seen this behaviour before when Grandma had been doing her legendary baking; by the looks of things Gordon would get no desired information tonight. Before he could ask anything else, his grandmother reappeared with Kyrano at the kitchen door and the matriarch's eyes bulged at the chocolate-bars in their hands.

"Scott and Virgil Tracy!" she snapped. "It will soon be dinner-time! Kyrano's about to start cooking!"

The two brother immediately stood, trying to hide the half-eaten bars behind their backs and stuttering out the old excuse that they were growing boys, and pilots needed a sufficient intake. Their Grandma gave them a fond but firm look.

"Well, boys, I'm sure you've had enough intake now - so if you'd be so kind as to get out from under our feet, otherwise your father will be scratching his head and wondering why he has three sons, not five."

Had Scott and Virgil been twenty years younger, they would have responded to this threat with a joint cry of 'Oooooh!' But with one having just turned thirty-one and the other a few months away from his twenty-eighth, with both sharing memories of past experiences of their Grandmother's wrath, they merely exchanged glances and escaped from the kitchen, kissing their grandmother on the cheek affectionately on the way out.

* * *

"Did you find out anything?" Gordon asked eagerly as Virgil rounded the corner. The chestnut-haired pilot shook his head. 

"Sorry, Gordon. Grandma's making a chocolate cake tonight, and by the looks of things it's diverted all of Scott's attention."

The redhead cursed slightly. "How am I supposed to get my information if they won't give me any? It's so inconsiderate and rude!"

"Have you seen Dad anywhere?" Virgil added. "It looks like dinner will be on the table shortly."

"Yeah, he's gone down to the lab to get that report from Brains and to go over some possible modifications for Thunderbird 3." Gordon sighed and ran a hand through his copper-coloured hair. "I'm going for a swim. Coming?"

Virgil shook his head. "No thanks, I think I'll just squeeze in some book-reading time before dinner."

"Well, suit yourself. See you." Gordon left his brother to it and went off to get changed.

* * *

John peeked his head round the kitchen door, watching the dinner preparations taking place. The manservant Kyrano had his back to the blonde, nursing a big saucepan of bolognaise sauce - John's mouth began to water. Then he practically drowned in his own drool as he spotted his grandmother on the other side of the kitchen, spreading that gorgeous butter cream over that equally gorgeous sponge cake. 

Should he ever get married, he would definitely ask his grandmother do the catering for the reception. There was no doubt about that, he thought, as he inhaled a mixture of bolognaise sauce and chocolate butter cream that was not too rich nor too light.

He quickly ducked out of the doorway so that his grandmother would not see him - he needed her to feel as though it would be safe to put the cake in the fridge, otherwise he'd never succeed.

Peeking back round, he watched his grandmother decorate the top of the moist sponge cake with strawberries, before taking it to the fridge and placing it inside. He breathed a sigh of relief, ducking back out of sight before his grandmother turned towards the door. Deciding it was time he wasn't there, the astronomer quickly ran off down the corridor and slipped into the recreation-room.

After that… incident with the blueberry cheesecake, his grandmother had given him a tedious lecture about messing around with food ('You're not an animal, you're a very silly young man!') and that wasn't the half of it. Two-days' worth of lunch and dinner-plates had to be washed by his hand - but it wasn't so bad, considering the original sentence was to do it for a week, John mused, walking absent-mindedly around the pool-table. Grandma must have decided that he had been punished enough.

_Except there was nothing to be punished for, _John thought to himself, as he spotted a tiny blue stain on the floor that refused to budge, no matter how many times he had scraped at it.

John gave a dry smile. His last stay at the island had been an eventful one, but not in his favour. Still, it wasn't too late, John thought, looking over his shoulder to check that nobody was around. The blonde did a small pre-victory dance on the spot that would have led any witnesses who knew him well to immediately summon a psychiatrist.

Then he called Scott on his mobile.

* * *

Five minutes later, his hands clasped around something, Scott was standing back outside the kitchen door. Inside, only Kyrano was present. It had already been confirmed that Gordon was still in the pool and that Grandma had gone for a stroll in the gardens with Tin-Tin, positive that everything would be safe in Kyrano's hands. 

Kneeling down by the kitchen door, Scott nodded at John to keep guard. Then, he opened his hands up to reveal a mouse. Not a real mouse, but a robotic replica that looked, scuttled and behaved exactly like a live one, and better still, only needed to be turned on by a tiny switch on the under-belly and controlled by a small touch-pad remote. It was, in Scott's eyes, a work of genius and one that he had secretly purchased in England two weeks back when his father had sent him over to England to visit their London agent Lady Penelope on International Rescue business.

Scott turned the mouse upside down and quickly activated the switch on as John did the same with the remote. Then Scott leaned in and placed it on the kitchen floor, before ducking out of sight and handing the show over to his brother. Flat up against the wall just outside the kitchen door, John's hand darted around the touchpad, controlling the mouse's course and he sent the mouse darting right across the kitchen so that Kyrano noticed it over the saucepan he was tending.

Peeking in, Scott and John watched as Kyrano, sighing, went to grab a kitchen towel. Trying to keep the mouse moving, John made it run around in a circle - before disaster struck and the mouse ran into the wall.

John cursed as Kyrano approached the mouse, brandishing the towel. The small toy's legs were moving hurriedly, its empty eyes unable to see that it could not move any further forward. John quickly moved it, but in his panic the mouse went too fast and this time ran into the wall opposite. As Kyrano approached it, the panicked blonde's fingers moved around the touchpad in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, and the mouse fled for the open door as Kyrano threw the towel down, missing it by inches. Realising Kyrano was going to come straight at them, Scott immediately pulled John out of eyeshot.

The mouse ran through the door and took off for its left. Kyrano quickly chased after it, failing to notice Scott and John behind him, squashed together in the gap between the wall and the kitchen door panel.

"Ouch," was all John could mumble as he continued to control the mouse via the touchpad, hoping Kyrano would be distracted for just two more minutes. Two more minutes, that was all they needed.

The manservant chased the mouse down the corridor and around the corner. It scuttled as fast as it was able, and soon managed to disappear. Kyrano cursed in Malaysian, looking around before getting on his knees and crawling some length across the corridor.

"Kyrano?"

The manservant looked up to see Jeff Tracy emerging from the entrance-door that led downstairs into the laboratory, which was run and organised by Brains, the designer of the International Rescue machines. On seeing his employer raise an eyebrow down at him, Kyrano quickly but calmly explained.

"Mr Tracy, forgive my unusual position. We seem to have a mouse."

Jeff scratched his chin. "Mouse, eh? That's odd, we're in the Pacific. Seems impossible to have mice around. Well, I know dinner's ready soon, but I just wanted to drop into the kitchen for a drink of water, if that's alright."

Kyrano stood, taking the towel off his shoulder, glancing around once more. "Yes of course, Mr. Tracy. I must re-attend to my cooking. I would not like to let Mr. John down."

The two men strolled back to the kitchen and Kyrano quickly ensured that his bolognaise sauce was alright before retrieving some pasta from a cupboard. Opening it, he poured the entire packet of stiff spaghetti strands into a saucepan of water that had been steadily boiling for the last five minutes, and in his short absence had reached its limits.

"Was my mother going to make a cake, Kyrano?"

The manservant looked up, one eye on the pasta. "Yes, Mr. Tracy, you will find it in the fridge."

"Oh, great," was his reply. Turning away to tend his spaghetti, Kyrano heard the fridge door open and a slight pause.

"Uh - Kyrano?"

The manservant looked around. "Yes, Mr. Tracy?"

"Are you sure the cake's here?"

Kyrano frowned and made his way over. "I saw Mrs Tracy put it in there myself, Mr Tracy. I'm sure it…" Then he saw the big space on the first shelf where the cake should have been. Turning away, he rubbed his forehead for a moment.

"Kyrano?" Jeff looked at him worriedly. "Everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Tracy. I just think I've made a connection. Are you aware of your sons' - forgive me - limitless appetites?"

Jeff stared at him for a second before cottoning on. "Yes, I'm afraid I am. Kyrano, could you go and fetch my mother, please? She'll need to be told about this. In the meantime I'll hide the rolling-pins; don't want anyone getting caught on the wrong-end of those."

* * *

Rubbing his hair dry with one of the two towels he was holding, Gordon gave a deep, satisfied sigh, which reflected the mood he always felt after a good swim. It helped him relieve the tensions of every day life, and sometimes gave him inspiration for a new prank. 

Opening his bedroom door, Gordon stepped inside and jabbed the inside button that closed the door. Glancing around his room briefly, he discarded of the smaller towel and went to the wardrobe to find a shirt to wear at John's welcome-home dinner that evening.

And froze.

He turned around and looked at the desk again. He blinked. Everything he owned was still there, sure - but there also something else, something that was not his.

"What the - where did _that _come from?" he muttered aloud, approaching the desk. He stared down at the new guest on his desk for a moment, feeling confused but very pleasantly surprised. How beautiful and appealing it looked, he thought, delight starting to bubble up inside him. What a wonderful - _hold on. _

Gordon's growing smile died as he realised that what he was looking at should not be there. In fact, it was something that, if found here, in this place, in the next five minutes, would almost certainly see him standing on the edge of the highest cliff on the island, with only way to get down - forwards.

The penny dropping, the aquanaut's facial expression turned to one of horror as he continued to stare at the large chocolate sponge cake with the strawberries decorated on top, sitting on its plate on his desk. He knew that his grandmother had been making a cake, but wasn't it supposed to be in the fridge, as far away from his sticky little paws as possible? His grandma knew him, she wasn't that stupid - as a matter of fact, she wasn't stupid at all! Or was the stress of caring for one son, five grandsons, one scientist and one young lady proving all too much for her?

And that wasn't the half of it, Gordon realised, looking the cake over yet again. There was clear evidence of foul play; someone had cut a slice out of the cake, leaving a yawning gap. And the small plate that was sitting next to the large one had obviously been the host of that cake-slice - there were marks of butter-cream covering the white porcelain and even a half-eaten strawberry lying on top of it.

Two plates, both with incriminating evidence that would land Gordon in it, whatever _it _was, and he didn't even want to think about the repercussions. What he needed to consider was how to get the cake back to the kitchen, without being seen.

Maybe he should just make out his will now and ensure that his Olympic gold medal was buried with him.

* * *

"John, will you just come in here?" 

"No, no, Scott. You just do it and I'll, er, watch."

Scott rolled his eyes to the heavens. His astronaut brother was perfectly capable of spending a month in space at least three times a year, but he was not so capable of helping to care for Alan's tiny pygmy alligator. Scott could only thank his lucky stars that John had been safely tucked away in space on the occasion when they had received a distress call from a group of people on the Ambro River, who were being targeted by a group of alligators that through a simple accident had undergone rapid growth until they had swelled to many times their normal size.

"John, is there any particular reason why you seem to fear all water-creatures? I'm surprised you don't shriek and duck out of sight every time Gordon walks in."

John sighed. "We already do that anyway."

Scott chose not to reply and busied himself with bending down and holding out a piece of meat towards Alan's small pygmy alligator. "Come along, Laika. Come on, girl."

The alligator eyed the meat for a moment, then edged closer. Scott dropped the meat in front of her and Laika began to eat it herself. Scott stood up, dusting his hands off.

"Nothing to it." He turned to grin at John. "Now to clean her out cage out. Fancy helping?" He backed off a bit at the look his brother gave him. "… OK, perhaps you could just keep an eye and an ear out."

Glancing back in the direction of the Villa, John lowered his voice excitedly. "Do you think he's found it yet?"

Scott, crouching back down to pet Laika, glanced up. "Well, he's obviously not been caught yet, I can't hear any shouting."

"I hope it works," said John, somewhat anxiously.

Scott grinned up at him. "I'm sure it will. We've done our part. We've just got to keep our fingers crossed, right?"

John nodded, giving a slight smirk. "Right."

Glancing down at Laika, who was shuffling round his feet, Scott leaned close to her, and murmured, "And not a word out of you, okay, madam?"

Laika, having stopped her shuffling momentarily, stared up at him with round marble-eyes. Scott straightened up, satisfied, and decided that their secret was safe with her.

_Will the prank work, or will Gordon cotton on and overcome? Find out, in the third and final instalment of Chocolate Cake!_


	3. Part 3: Settling Down

A/N: It's finally finished, and I'm quite pleased with the way it's gone! I want to thank everyone for their kind reviews, for which I am truly grateful as it gave me the confidence to continue with this story! Thankyou so much!

An extra big helping of thanks should go to my wonderful beta-reader for this story, Mad-Friend, who took the time out of a busy and hectic lifestyle to beta this piece of fiction. I am so grateful to her for taking this fic the extra mile and for her endless patience! Thankyou so much, Mad-Friend!

So - will Scott and John's plan work, or will Gordon fight back and return what is not his? And now, I present to you...the conclusion to Chocolate Cake…

* * *

Part 3: Settling Down

All too aware of the sweat that was covering his forehead, Gordon glanced around his open bedroom door and, relieved that the corridor was empty, stepped out holding the large plate with the cake. Now all he had to do was get past the lounge, and then into the kitchen, and put the cake safely in the fridge where he knew his grandma always put them.

Providing both of those places were empty.

… Maybe this wasn't going to be so easy after all.

_Oh, just do it, _Gordon repeated what he always told himself on rescues in order to gain that extra bit of courage that always assured the safety of a person's life. Now he had to save his own - or least his pride.

All he had to do, he reasoned, as he walked to the door carrying the cake, was to take the back way through to the kitchens, where he was least likely to run into anyone. Taking a deep breath, Gordon jabbed the button on the inside panel of his door and gulped slightly as the door slid back. Again, peeking around it, he scanned one end of the hallway outside and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was deserted. He turned to look the other way, and again, froze. His train of thought was swiftly thrown off the rails and his blood ran cold when he saw Grandma Tracy coming towards him, though mercifully without a rolling-pin in hand.

She saw him the same time he saw her and in that moment, Gordon Cooper Tracy truly contemplated calling International Rescue himself.

"Oh."

"Gordon Tracy." Even from where she was standing, his grandmother could see the cake in his arms because most of Gordon's upper-body was leaning out of his bedroom door. Hiding it now would be useless, and to spoil such a cake by dropping it and running was a crime against humanity.

The little devil at the back of Gordon Tracy's mind made a vow to hire a hit-man to target whichever heartless person had set him up, as the fireworks began with no sign of ending any time soon.

* * *

"Ouch," John muttered to himself, scowling down at the bite on his hand that was now wrapped up in a handkerchief. Walking alongside him, Scott rolled his eyes. 

"I don't care whether you meant to or not, the fact remains that I warned you not to dangle your hand over the side of the enclosure. She'll only let herself be petted if you go in there and kneel down to her level."

"Like I'd even set foot in that enclosure while she's alive and breathing in it," John winced. "How can Alan live with such a monster?"

They stepped through the back doors of the Villa which led into their bedroom corridor, and walking up towards the main entrance-exit doors, they were suddenly stopped short by shouting on the other side - Grandma Tracy's shouting. The pilot and the space-monitor looked at each other, raised their eyebrows, and grinned.

"Quite a display, eh?" said a voice behind them and both brothers turned to see Virgil emerging from his room. Taking a bow, he held an arm out towards his open door, inviting them inside.

"I got you a treat, John - hey, what happened to your hand?"

"Never mind," the space-monitor waved his good hand around, his agony quashed by the sweet taste of victory. Stepping into his brother's cool bedroom, the first thing he saw on Virgil's desk was the missing cake slice, uneaten, on a white porcelain plate with a fork and even a small serviette next to it. John's cup of happiness brimmed over.

"Well done, Virgil!" He hugged his brother; he couldn't help himself. "You played your part well!"

"Thankyou!" Virgil preened. "I was glad Scott let me in on the joke. When he told me about the cheesecake incident it felt wholly justified stashing the cake in here, then cutting this bit out and planting it in Gordon's room!"

Scott smiled over at his brother. If, heaven forbid, the day came when there would be no element of trust between anyone else in the Tracy family, Scott was entirely faithful of the fact that he and Virgil could still trust each other one-hundred percent. So telling Virgil about the prank earlier that evening (his tongue always loosened when someone gave him chocolate) was an automatic assurance that their secret was safe. Heck, when Virgil had asked - no, _begged_ to get involved - Scott couldn't refuse.

"And you tipped Grandma off okay?" John questioned.

Virgil nodded. "Yep. After planting the cake and the plate, I left the corridor through the back entrance, went over to the pool and began reading. Dad was in the laboratory, Gordon had just left the pool, and Grandma was in the gardens, so I timed it perfectly."

Scott grinned and nodded. "And then after a few minutes you got up and went in."

"And walked straight into pandemonium central where everyone was trying to figure out where the cake had gone," John laughed. "Good thing Gordon always comes through the back entrance, otherwise things might've gone pear-shaped."

"I can just imagine you playing your part, Virgil," Scott chuckled, holding his hands to his heart and imitating his brother, "_Oh Grandma, _it may just be a silly thought, but have you checked _Gordon's _room? He's been acting _kinda unusual _today!"

His two younger brothers both burst out laughing as Scott picked up the cake and presented it to John with a flourish.

"It's all yours."

"Hey, thanks, but I couldn't have done it alone," John protested. "Let's share it."

"Oh, but - "

"No, come on, fellas. We did this together, we'll reap the rewards together."

The two pilots appeared to think for a moment, but a glance at the beautiful moist-looking cake made up their minds for them and they nodded hungrily. Virgil handed the fork to John.

"At least take the first bite." And that was precisely what John did, closing his eyes in ecstasy as the sweetness of the chocolate and butter cream reached his lips.

_I promised myself, Gordon, _he thought, handing the plate and fork over to Scott, _I vowed to get back at you, and look how right I was!_

* * *

"Kyrano, that was a fantastic meal," Jeff said, finishing the last of his spaghetti bolognaise and leaning back in his seat. "You never fail us, you know." 

Kyrano smiled modestly. "It was a pleasure, Mr Tracy. Just wait until you see what Mrs Tracy has for your dessert!"

Jeff gave a slight chuckle, glancing over at his four sons present and in particular at Gordon. "From what I've heard, some people couldn't wait until dessert."

John deliberately dropped his fork so that he could bend down to retrieve it and hide the big grin on his face in the process. Gordon was scowling down at his plate, which was still half-full. He'd been left in a state of shock after his grandma had finished with him and of course, how could he protest his innocence? The cake_ had _been in his room, and after Grandma had found the used plate, Gordon had found himself lumbered with a lecture on gluttony with a week's worth of washing up thrown in on the side. It was doubly humiliating, because hadn't that been John's -

HANG ON!

Gordon's head shot up to glare at his blonde brother across the table, who had just re-emerged with a carefully-controlled straight face.

"Gordon, have you finished eating?"

The redhead blinked and stared up at Tin-Tin, who was standing there already with two used plates in her hands. "Um - sorry?"

"Have you finished eating, Gordon?"

"Oh! Um, yeah," he said distractedly, staring back at his brother. John had become interested in folding up his impeccably clean and unused napkin which was a tribute to his polite eating-habits, and wasn't meeting Gordon's eye.

Once the dinner plates had been cleared, Grandma opened the fridge and took out the large chocolate cake, albeit without a slice. She brought it to the table amongst 'Oohs' and 'Aaahs' and placed it into the centre.

"Right, now, John, I made this for you."

"Sure looks great, Grandma. Although I'm sorry about the half-inched slice." John smiled angelically and leaned forwards. "Very sorry indeed."

Grandma targeted her second-youngest grandson with a glare. "Yes, it's a shame that some people can't control their appetites long enough. Right, Gordon - " she threw a dishcloth at him "- if you'd be so kind as to make a start on the dishes while I serve the cake up."

The look on Gordon's face caused John's cup of happiness to flow right over; he and his brothers fell about in their seats as the redhead numbly got up and walked slowly and reluctantly over to the huge pile of dirty dishes that in usual circumstances were put in the dishwasher.

"You need to learn some lessons the hard way, Gords," John called after him sweetly. "Never mind, maybe you'll get a small piece of cake, if you're lucky."

Gordon rounded on him with a furious glare and Scott and Virgil, both looking on, were overcome with relief that looks couldn't kill, otherwise they would be booking a funeral director for the space-monitor in the next five minutes.

Grandma put a slice of cake on a plate for John and handed it to her grandson, smiling fondly at him. "Now you just mind yourself, John, I've dealt with him, so don't give him anymore grief."

It only took John five seconds to think over the unfairness of that statement after all the crooning and gloating Gordon had put him through last time, but then the cake called to him and he tucked in, feeling proud of the afternoon's achievements. It came as a surprise to no-one when he accepted a second slice, and when he and his brothers had eaten their fill and chatted to their heart's content, they all drifted away from the table, just as Gordon had dried the last dish.

"Here you go, Grandma," he called across wearily. She turned and inspected the dishes, and gave a slight smile, which came as something of a relief to the aquanaut.

"That's better. Now put them away and you're excused, you greedy boy."

For the past half-hour, Gordon had been considering everything that had happened, and he knew now who had set him up, and why and while surprised and even grudgingly impressed that his normally quiet brother had managed to plot something like this, it still made his blood boil. Did he have to suffer like this after a small incident involving a bit of cheesecake? Could no-one take a joke around here?

Apparently not.

After he put the last dish away, Gordon left the kitchen, dutifully kissing his grandmother on the way out. She shook her head at his back and then turned to her son, who was having a sift through the evening papers before he got back to work.

"Those boys!" she sighed, wiping the table. "You'd think that the only reason they wanted me here was because of my baking, and while I pride myself on my culinary skills, I really didn't think it would drive them to such desperate measures."

Jeff raised his eyebrows up at her. "Well, mother, I certainly wasn't joking about the chorus of 'Happy Days' they all broke into when I told them you were coming to stay on the island permanently."

* * *

After his initial happiness, John's conscience had drifted to the surface. He was beginning to feel guilty about setting Gordon up like this, and he tried to justify it with examples of why Gordon deserved it. But the redhead was still his brother, after all… And on top of everything else, should he have gotten his grandma involved like that? 

Later on that evening in the lounge after their father had taken their grandmother for a walk on the beach, the blonde relayed his worries to Scott and Virgil. They both smiled at him sympathetically.

"Look, it was a small revenge plot, and he did deserve it," Scott pointed out. "After all, it is squaring things from your last visit, really."

"I suppose so…" Leaning against the piano, John bit his lip dubiously. "Maybe I should come clean."

"No, John, it's okay, don't worry about it." Virgil, playing a soft tune on the piano, shook his head at him. "We all had a bit of fun, and if you think about it, at least none of us were intending to physically hurt him, and we haven't. His pride is just a bit dented, as our pride often is when he plays jokes on us. I admire you for feeling like that, because it shows you love him, and so do we."

"What about Grandma?"

"She'd understand," Scott added. "Believe me, John, if she knew the whole story, she'd probably be on your side, no doubt. Anyone in your position would've done the same thing. You know Grandma likes people to take responsibility for their actions, and that's precisely what you've prompted her to do with Gordon after what he did on your last visit."

Virgil's fingers began to move over the piano keys slightly faster as he concluded the conversation.

"He's fine, John. He's learned a little lesson, and it's not like we always get our own back on him when he messes around."

"Good job too," piped up a voice from the door. The three brothers looked up to see their younger sibling standing in the doorway. Gordon stepped into the lounge, raising his eyebrows at the three conspirators. "The number of pranks I've pulled, I'd probably be dead by now."

Despite himself, John chuckled and approached him. "Are you okay?"

Gordon waved his hand airily. "Fine. I admire you, y'know. You were very brave, taking me on like that."

"There might not have been any need for it in the first place if you hadn't framed me over that cheesecake," John said sternly. Gordon grimaced, and looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry about that."

Virgil's fingers hit a wrong note on the keys as Scott gave a low whistle.

"Wow, wish I'd had a tape-recorder for that."

John was a soft chap at heart, and he felt himself melt slightly at the apology. Slightly.

"I'm just ensuring that you learn your lesson," he told his red-haired brother. "You set me up, Gords, so I did the same to you. You're getting the blame now, and I suppose in a way I am too - only I received my punishment last time. Now come and have a hug."

Gordon gave a ready grin, and pulling his hands out of his pockets, he flung them around the blonde, clapping him unusually hard on the back. They stayed in the brotherly embrace for a moment, before Gordon pulled away and stretched, and Scott and Virgil's hands both flew to their mouths as they stared at John's back.

"Well, I'm gonna hit the hay." Gordon smiled at his three brothers. "See you guys in the morning." With a wink at Scott and Virgil, he left the room, while the two eldest Tracy brothers' shoulders shook as they continued to stare at what the naughty little genius had left on John's shirt. Then all three of them were distracted as Tin-Tin stepped into the room.

"Hello, everyone." She was greeted enthusiastically, and smiled at them all as she went across to the balcony to fetch the vase of dead flowers on the table outside. When she came back in, she saw John's back as well and stopped dead in her tracks. Scott and Virgil firmly avoided each other's gaze. The space-monitor, oblivious to all this, yawned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, I'm going to go to bed too. Night, everyone."

"Night, John."

"Yeah, night."

"Good night, John."

After John had left, Tin-Tin rounded on the remaining brothers and hissed at the pair of them. "How did _that _get on him?"

Still not looking at each other, Scott and Virgil replied simultaneously.

"Gordon."

Tin-Tin shook her head. "I might have known. But why didn't you tell John?"

"Oh, he'll find out for himself," Scott chuckled. "Plus, it'll make him feel better." On seeing Tin-Tin's questioning look, he added, "Never mind, honey, it's a long story."

"Oh, well." The sweet brunette shrugged her shoulders and made for the door. "I'd best get these in the bin and wash out the vase. Goodnight."

After she had left, the two pilots finally met each other's gaze. Outside, as they walked back up the path to the Villa, Jeff and Grandma both stopped dead in their tracks at the sound of what seemed to be hysterical hyenas coming from the lounge window.

* * *

In his bedroom, John took his shirt off, going over his brothers' words in his head. What they said seemed to make sense, but he still had his reservations. He was glad to get his point through to Gordon, and a hug was always nice. But on the other hand - 

What was that on his shirt?

Frowning slightly, John held it up to the light, and that's when he saw it in full. A big blue sticker, with yellow writing, too distinguishable not to be noticed, which formed the following sentence:

_Kick Me, I'm Hyped On Sugar._

* * *

Lying on his bed, Gordon grinned up at the ceiling. Maybe he'd gotten the raw side of the deal in this case, but the sticker he had left on his plotting brother certainly began to make the whole thing just a bit worth-while. Okay, so it wasn't the best form of payback. 

_But it's solid proof, Johnny, _he thought to himself, _Solid proof that you can't kid a kidder. You just wait - you can't keep a prankster down for long!_

_Fin. _


End file.
